


Undertake by the Ocean

by MariaMediaOverThere



Series: Seungchuchu Week Vol. II [8]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dirty Thoughts, M/M, Phichit running out of words, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, i mean halfway, insecure!Seung-Gil, issues with body image, so really just, the semantics of sexiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 16:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaMediaOverThere/pseuds/MariaMediaOverThere
Summary: SeungchuchuWeek 2 Day 7: Bibla Be Ye Ye – Beach“Shut up- you know what I’m trying to say. You’ve got a sexy body but you’re more than that, Seung-Gil… you also have a sexy brain.”“Are you sexually-repressed?”“I’m running out of words, okay?!”





	Undertake by the Ocean

 

“Sex on the beach!”

 

Seung-Gil whips his sunglasses off his face, scandalized beyond words- red coloring his cheeks at such a lewd exclamation. However, his body temperature settles immediately, understanding that Phichit was merely offering him an alcoholic beverage. He curtly shakes his head.

 

Phichit pouts for a split second before he shrugs and places the glass on top of the ice cooler that they took way too long configuring to fit in the trunk of JJ’s rented van.

“More for me,” He announces with flourish before he guides the neon pink straw to his lips. Seung-Gil watches with apt attention as Phichit nurses the too-fruity drink, licking his lips clean of the droplets. Seung-Gil finds himself unconsciously (and embarrassingly) mimicking the motion.

 

 

You can’t blame him, though; don’t you dare. Not when Phichit has been…. just been- been around, been Phichit, doing Phichit things. Fuck him.

 

Fuck me, Seung-Gil seethes in the confines of his mind.

 

 

Phichit’s obviously been running a high, making a show of his athleticism alongside Emil Nekola from the Czech Republic, who, by the way, brought his own jet ski. How the dirty blond brought his jet ski or was able to meet them at the beach location with it, confounds Seung-Gil. Honestly, it’s beyond him. He has other things to devote his brain power to.

 

These “important things” are inclusive of Phichit Chulanont, apparently a savant at beach volleyball, stripping himself of everything but swimming trunks and striding to and fro playing an overrated game of Don’t-Let-The-Ball-Touch-The-Ground.

His serves are complete garbage, though- no one can deny. His fingertips only barely scratch the ball before it hurls itself at the net. Then again, he’s playing against a man roughly twice his height, so maybe Seung-Gil won’t berate him outright on his less-than-stellar service. What Phichit lacks in his strength, he makes up for in his agility. It sounds super cheesy- but it’s been something on Seung-Gil’s mind since he looked up the Thai’s official ISO stats.

 

It must be his tiny body- sinewy muscles teasing underneath his golden tan complexion. He shoots off like a rocket, tumbling in the sand to keep the volleyball away from his side of the net. Seung-Gil has never found himself as enraptured on fucking calf muscles than when Phichit is raring to lunge forward, cementing his knee in the sand and outlining the graceful curve of his spine.

 

Despite the admittedly lovely seaside breeze, Seung-Gil finds himself sweating bullets.

 

 

Maybe he should have accepted Phichit’s offer- considering how heavily he’s perspiring. It’s too late now- he’d rather dehydrate. He’s not a conversationalist, and he doubts his tongue will comply with him at this moment, as it seems to be adamant at lolling around uselessly behind his teeth.

 

 

Seung-Gil isn’t blind.

 

 

He flirts with the idea of glancing, but he can see Phichit’s bare chest being pat down by a fluffy towel that he envies to be right now, and deems it A Bad Idea’™.

Seung-Gil’s got layers on, board shorts, a tasteless t-shirt (as JJ dubbed it) and a jacket. No wonder he’s sweating. Still, he’d rather die than shed off articles of clothing and risk his body betraying him by showcasing to the world the flush he’s got going on down his own chest.

 

 

By the way Phichit picks up his drink with deft fingers and presses it against the side of his neck, sighing contently, Seung-Gil is sure that the flush is working its way down.

 

 

 

“Seung-Gil,” Phichit calls, voice saccharine, and every part of him stands at attention. “Are you having fun?”

 

‘Fun’ is such a loose word- vacant of definitive meaning. He takes a moment to collect his surroundings, taking in Katsuki, Nikiforov and Plisetsky seemingly trying to drown one another in the open ocean. JJ and his girlfriend are lounging about on the stools of the nearby beach bar where he assumes Phichit got his vulgar-named cocktail. He distinctly remembers Leo and Guang-Hong climbing into the van with him, but he can’t see them at the moment. They’re probably wherever-the-hell Babicheva and those annoying twins ran off to; the same could be said for Phichit’s volleyball competition, Seung-Gil deduced.

 

 

“I’m content.” He decides on the word, distant from anything binding, but hopefully enough to keep Phichit from prying him to open up and socialize.

 

Phichit merely nods; that tells Seung-Gil nothing at all.

 

 

Unfortunately, complete and utter confusion is something he just has to deal with nowadays. Skirting around on the brink of a relationship is spreading Seung-Gil’s already-too-thin patience even thinner. Too little butter on too much toast, he deems.

 

Not enough butter, definitely. He remembers going to bed with hints of buttery lip balm still smeared around his mouth. He will forever deny biting and licking his lips raw that night, trying to chase the sensation down.

 

 

Phichit, oh Phichit.

 

 

 

Seung-Gil jumps when he feels Phichit reach out to touch him. The pressure of the Thai’s palm against his bicep is electric, even if it’s dampened by the fabric of tee. “Hey,” Phichit scoots closer, “I’m really happy you decided to tag along- I know this isn’t your scene.” Seung-Gil makes a non-committal noise. Phichit continues, “It really means a lot, so much.”

 

“You said that already.” Seung-Gil’s voice is vacant of the usual strife it comes pre-packaged with.

 

Phichit just smiles.

 

 

The hand on his bicep moves towards his shoulder, staying there for just a short moment before trailing south. “Let me show you how much I appreciate it.”

 

 

“Phichit!” Seung-Gil gasps, scandalized but more surprised than anything- but immediately clacks his teeth together. He holds Phichit’s hand where he was able to stop it, hovering over his navel.

 

To Phichit’s credit, his boldness seems to go dim. “Oh, I understand.” He says with no hint of frustration, pulling his elbow back.

 

“Wait, wait,” Seung-Gil laces their fingers together, suspending them in this weird push and pull where neither knows who’s pushing or pulling. “What were you just about to do?”

 

The shorter of the two only rolls his eyes. “Seung-Gil. Come on. We’re adults.” Despite his sardonic tone, the highs of his cheek seem pinker. After silence on Seung-Gil’s part, Phichit turns sheepish- but Seung-Gil is relentless;

 

“Were you about to just give me a hand job in a public beach in the presence of our competitors?”

 

 

Phichit takes a moment to break up the words that Seung-Gil spurt out in one breath. “Yeah, actually.” He responds like it’s no big deal.

 

Seung-Gil unlocks their fingers, only to throw his hands up in a vague what-the-fuck gesture.

 

“Geez, you could just say no.” Phichit laughs, but it’s a nervous, embarrassed laugh that’s got Seung-Gil’s heart racing.

 

“It’s not-!” Seung-Gil keens; this is torture. He has stellar English. “How can you be so forward? We- We just kissed for the first time yesterday.”

 

“Am I moving too fast?”

 

“No, it’s just…” just what, he asks himself. The way Phichit raises his eyebrows seems to ask a similar query.

 

“I didn’t expect you to… want to get intimate with me…”

 

“So soon?”

 

“At all.” His voice is small.

 

 

 

Phichit is stunned in silence, but Seung-Gil knows there’s a full-on circus happening in his head. He opens his mouth, but takes his sweet time to let words out, supposedly because he’s still translating his Thai thoughts into English speech. Seung-Gil finds that one of the best facets of his relationship with Phichit is their face-paced witty dialogue; but deeper conversations take agonizingly long to come to fruition. Like right now, for example.

 

 

 

Finally, words come out of Phichit’s mouth,

“Do you think you’re sexy?”

 

“Do I-what?” Because that’s not what he expected to hear. “I haven’t entertained the thought.”

 

“Then entertain it.”

 

“My fans-“

 

“Not about the fans,” Phichit boops his nose. “You. What do you think?”

 

“I think… I’m fine.”

 

“Just fine or fine?” Phichit adds flourish by gazing up at him through his eyelashes and doing that squiggly thing he does with his eyebrows when he gets mischievous- the thing that makes Seung-Gil want to bend backwards and scream.

 

“What’s this about, Phichit?”

 

“I’m just trying to figure out how you could not expect me to get up all over you.” Phichit’s hand migrates to the top of Seung-Gil’s head and runs his finger through his hair. “You’re sexy.”

 

 

Seung-Gil’s blood boils hot.

“I’m not.”

 

“Oh my god, you’re soooo sexy.”

 

“Phichit, stop it.”

 

“Am I embarrassing you?” Cue Phichit’s cute little snort. “It’s the truth. Holy shit, that deep V neck of your Almavivo outfit, oh my god.”

 

“Don’t.” Seung-Gil can feel his face radiating heat. His clothes are so stuffy.

 

“No, you don’t understand- I was fanning myself. You had me so turned on.”

 

“Phichit!”

 

“How could you look so erotic wearing that dumb bulldog shirt-”

 

“It’s not dumb!”

 

“-I don’t know, but dear lord, I wanted you to have your way with me when we talked at the check-in counter. On the counter itself.”

 

“Are you some kind of exhibitionist?!” Seung-Gil bit back, if only not to allow his vocal cords to shrivel up.

 

“Not before, but maybe now, just so everyone can see that I’m with you.” Phichit’s fingers that’s twisted up in his bangs let up, only to leave feather-light touches at the back of Seung-Gil’s neck. “And that dark look you have with your eyes! I want you to look at me like that while you fuck me against the windows of a high-rise a-”

 

“Phichit, that’s enough!” Seung-Gil reached back to grab Phichit’s wrist. “I’m… that’s-!” In lieu of words, he just let out a high-pitched grunt. He can feel the tension, like a stressed cord, all the way to his toes which are buried in the warm sand.

 

 

“Ah, I’m sorry… I got carried away.” Phichit, honest to god, looked really ashamed at himself, and weaseled his arm out of Seung-Gil’s grip. “Was that too much?”

 

 

Seung-Gil wanted to scream.

 

“Yes.” He mouth was dry, as if he had been eating the very sand he was lying on. In fact, he might just start doing that, if only to do something.

 

Phichit’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t stand to see you so insecure.”

 

 

The inflection in his words made Seung-Gil’s already blushing skin go even redder. He probably looks absolutely ridiculous- like he’s been sunburned.

 

“I want you to see yourself the way I see you.” Phichit relays, voice surprisingly level, compared to how pitched and stained Seung-Gil’s is when he retorts,

 

“A sex object?”

 

“Shut up- you know what I’m trying to say. You’ve got a sexy body but you’re more than that, Seung-Gil… you also have a sexy brain.”

 

“Are you sexually-repressed?”

 

“I’m running out of words, okay?!”

 

“Just tell me I look nice today, it’s more than enough.” There’s a heaviness like honesty that colors Seung-Gil’s tone darker, “You don’t have to go to extreme lengths telling me I have a sexy brain to… for me to realize that we… we’re…”

 

“See? You can’t even say it.”

 

“You don’t make this easy.”

 

“Neither do you- but I like that. It makes you… compelling.”

 

Seung-Gil bites at his inner-cheek, stunned silent.

 

 

 “I love you.”

 

He pauses,

 

“But don’t ever try to touch my dick in public again, I swear to god…”


End file.
